


Compromises

by lustig



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers Series - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustig/pseuds/lustig
Summary: Richelieu has had bad experiences in his last few relationships and thus always retreats whenever Treville tries to get too close to him.But Treville is not one to give something as precious as his Cardinal up at the first problem they encounter.
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Compromises

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alaynestoneheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaynestoneheart/gifts).



> For alaynestoneheart, who asked for some Trevilieu h/c.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful Liadt.

It was the third time Richelieu pulled back with a half-embarrassed smile and a flimsy excuse about duty or a headache or something else after Treville’s hands had moved lower, just brushing over his backside, not even grabbing, really.

Treville smiled, a little brittle now, but retreated, left the room as was asked of him, and went back to his garrison, to beat up some of the musketeers.

It was frustrating. Richelieu always seemed so eager, pliant and soft and so very flexible when they kissed, hands buried in the soft silken robes. But every time Treville stepped a little closer, started to let his eyes wander, the Cardinal’s body stilled under his, freezing in position, and his new – and hopefully last – lover pulled back, his eyes twitching from side to side, his cheeks blushing, his words excusing himself.

Treville did not know why.

He suspected, of course. There were only two or three things he could imagine leading to these reactions, and he did not like any of them. And the one he suspected the most – Richelieu having had bad experiences in the past – was the one he thought the most likely. He knew how basic training went, he knew how rough soldiers could be on the field, especially with new ones, especially when on campaign and there were no women following them anywhere close.

Sometimes it did not matter if both parties agreed to what they were doing. It still hurt. Sometimes you did not want to try again, after that. When the pain was not worth the experienced pleasure.

Sweaty and tired, dirty from the mud the training yard had turned into once the rain had started, Treville washed himself; the fighting and the cold water subdued his disappointment. It was not Richelieu’s fault. He would have to approach him differently, if he wanted them to move forwards, if he really wanted them to commit to this courtship, this relationship they were building.

* * *

Sneaking into the Palais had become second nature very fast. There were so many tunnels and secret passages in Paris, and Richelieu had shown him the one that would get him inside his home without anyone noticing when it became obvious that their thing was not just some small fling that would pass quickly, but something more serious.

Treville knocked on the door in the agreed upon manner, and the door opened after mere moments to the bright eyes and satisfied smile of his hopefully-soon-to-be proper lover.

Richelieu was always awake in the middle of the night, sleeping the early evening and early morning away, but working during the midnight hours. And most recently, using this time to spend it getting to know the rank-rising star musketeer Louis wanted to become his new captain, as soon as the old one was ready to retire.

There was a light meal standing forlorn and forgotten on the desk, a mostly empty pot of tea and a few burning candles, next to some parchment, ink and feathers. Treville stole one of the dried fruits, a snack he could not easily get himself, and let himself sink into one of the soft chairs the Cardinal had in his office.

A few of his cats were lying in the room, purring, sleeping, watching the intruder through yellow eyes, but too content, too lazy to move. It was not the first time the Musketeer had met the Cardinal’s beasts, and he even dared to scratch the one closest to the chair behind its ears. The purring became louder.

They spend some time in silence, Richelieu finishing his correspondences or notes or books or whatever he was doing, Treville just watching him, all the sharp angles softened by the warm light of the candles. No one came in to disrupt them, the few hours between dusk and dawn belonged to the Cardinal alone. No one was bothering him now, in the hour of the wolf.

At some point, the parchment got abandoned; the scratching of the feather stopped and Richelieu leaned backwards, a satisfied smile stretching over his face. Treville finally rose from his seat, came over and buried his face in Richelieu’s neck, inhaling the scent of the Cardinal and the soft sigh Richelieu made upon contact.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Treville murmured, his face still hidden, reading Richelieu’s body language through his forehead pressed against the neck, the collarbone, the tensing shoulder. “That I will hurt you.”

A shudder went through Richelieu, as if he was thinking about getting up, getting away, retreating. But he held still, fought the instinct down and tried to relax again, his head falling forwards, against Treville’s shoulder, searching for an anchor.

Their heads next to each other, breaths mingling, foreheads pressed into each other’s necks, Treville reached up and started playing with Richelieu’s hair.

“Do you trust me, Armand?”

It was still rare, using each other’s Christian name, and the silence that followed the question got heavier every second it was not answered.

Finally, Richelieu nodded, still not separating himself from Treville, and said, weak and quiet: “Yes.”

“I want you,” Treville continued, as quiet as the Yes had been. “But I don’t care if it is me taking you – or the other way around. It’s not something we have talked about, before. And you don’t seem comfortable with – with taking the passive part.” It was hard, talking about it, even though the darkness, the night and the closed eyes made it a lot easier. “I don’t know why, and I don’t need you telling me, if you’re not comfortable with it. But I can offer you whatever you need to, and if that is tying my hands behind my back so you know I won’t touch you while taking your time to – to explore, so be it. I want us to work. And this is an easy compromise to make.”

“You would really do that?”

Disbelief and hope swung in Richelieu’s voice, and he disentangled himself form the contact, staring at Treville with a frown, his pupils blown wide by the darkness – and the thoughts the darkness brought to them.

Treville smiled, crooked and warm, and simply nodded. There would be compromises in the future that might put their relationship to the test; it was bound to happen with the values their respective groups represented. But they were still at the beginning of their journey, and Treville would be damned if wrong expectations on either side would lead to its early ending.

His Cardinal’s comfort came first. Their roles might change in the future, but for now, he was happy as the one at Richelieu’s heel.

Tonight was tonight. And tomorrow was another day.


End file.
